Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles in the desert, repenting

Meanwhile, the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

Meanwhile, the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Over the prairies and the deep trees

the mountains and the rivers.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting---